


It Happens Exactly Like This

by taelynhawker



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Future Fic, M/M, Stakeouts, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taelynhawker/pseuds/taelynhawker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles kisses Derek. It happens not at all the way he claims.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Happens Exactly Like This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [intergalacticju](https://archiveofourown.org/users/intergalacticju/gifts).



> This was written for intergalacticju on tumblr and based on this gif set: http://hoechloin.tumblr.com/post/31484421198/au-stiles-and-dereks-one-year-anniversary

**November 27th 2013:**  
  
They’re on a stakeout- sort of- and he kisses him.  
  
Stiles kisses _Derek_ and he’s got _no_ excuses.  
  
He’s not in fear for his life, no one is bleeding out, there’s no wolf’s bane, or murderous lizards, no pack of alphas. There isn’t anything but strange hunters passing through town, and Derek and Stiles are just casually following them to make sure they actually leave.  
  
Stiles literally could have done this alone. Except that he’d demanded Derek come with him, had explained that if the hunters _did_ suddenly decide they wanted to go on a shooting spree Stiles could not possibly survive.  
  
But nothing was happening, of course, and it was just he and Derek in a dark parking lot in his Jeep. And he doesn’t have werewolf senses but he can sure as hell smell how good Derek smells, can see that he must have showered just before meeting Stiles because his hair is still damp and messy. He swears he can hear every heartbeat, every indrawn breath.  
  
He’s also painfully aware that Derek _does_ have werewolf senses. That he can hear Stiles breathing like he’s run a marathon, how his heart is beating triple time, and this is exactly why he’s been avoiding spending time with Derek. Because until he gets this stupid crush- _not a crush,_ says his heartbeat, _so much more than a crush,_ his lungs scream- under control he should not be anywhere near Derek.  
  
The hunters leave, taking the road out of town, as expected.  
  
“Well, looks like we’re in the clear,” Stiles says.  
  
And Derek turns his head, eyeing Stiles, face stern. “What's wrong with you?”  
  
“Huh? Nothing. The hunters are gone. That’s good. Right? Or is it not good? Were we hoping for a fight?”  
  
Derek rolls his eyes, jaw tightening in annoyance, and shoves further into Stiles’ space. “Why do you smell like you’re about to have a stroke? Your heart is racing.”  
  
And because Stiles is insane, instead of answering, he leans forward and presses his lips to Derek’s. And then he stays there, stuck in the most awkward, dry, closed mouth kiss ever. _Ever_. Because if he moves away Derek’s going to _eat him_. And if he tries anything more Derek will also eat him, only parts of Stiles would _already be in his mouth_ and that just feels like giving him more of an already unfair advantage. _Fuck._  
  
Derek’s mouth moves, probably to _actually_ eat him, and Stiles tears his mouth away.  
  
“Shit! Oh shit, shit. Oh my god.”  
  
And then he’s opening the door, leaving the keys and his hoodie, and Derek, behind as he flees. _Flees._ There is nothing manly or brave about this. This is not a retreat. This is running for his life.  
  
Stiles runs until his chest feels like it might explode, air burning as he greedily sucks it down. He’s not even sure where he’s run to. He puts his hands on his knees, staring at the woods around him.  
  
He freezes, mouth dropping open, eyes going wide. He just kissed Derek. _In his Jeep_. And then he ran. Leaving Derek in _his Jeep_. Which he needs to get _home_.  
  
He pats his pockets and his face screws up in annoyance when he realizes his phone is in the Jeep as well.  
  
That’s okay though. It’s cold. He’ll probably freeze to death out here and then he’s never going to have to face Derek again. Ever. And that’s good. That is very good.  
  
“Oh my god,” he mumbles to himself. “Oh my _god_ , what the hell?”  
  
“I was going to ask you that. What the hell, Stiles?”  
  
Stiles may or may not squeal, and he may or may not trip on a tree root and fall on his ass. Derek reaches out and hauls him up, brushing leaves off his shirt roughly. He shoves his hoodie into Stiles’ arms and glares as he pulls it on.  
  
“I didn’t- I mean- I don’t. Yeah. We can just like-”  
  
He doesn’t get to finish which is probably for the best because nothing much was coming out of his mouth in the first place. And now Derek’s mouth is on his and this kiss is way better than Stiles’. This is warm and deep, with Derek’s hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer, licking his mouth open and tasting him. And that’s good. That’s perfect, even.  
  
He goes a little weak kneed, slumping against Derek, fisting his hands in his leather jacket to keep from sliding all the way down. Which would leave him on his knees in front of Derek and that-  
  
-that is really not such a bad thought after all.  
  
Derek pulls away, puts the smallest amount of space between them, staring into Stiles’ eyes like he’s trying to tell him something. Stiles’ brain is not quite up to interpreting at the moment.  
  
“I like you,” he tells Derek.  
  
Derek looks up, like god could save him from Stiles’ stupidity.  
  
“I got that, actually. Around the time you started smelling like sex every time I was in the room with you, and even Scott asked if we were hooking up.”  
  
Stiles does squeak then. “Scott knows?”  
  
“I told him we weren’t, and then made him chase Boyd through the reserve. At night. While Boyd was wearing Allison’s perfume.”  
  
Stiles makes a face. That seems like cruel and incredibly _unusual_ punishment.  
  
Derek shrugs. “He didn’t ask again.”  
  
There’s an awkward silence that follows because Stiles isn’t sure what this means exactly, that Derek came chasing after him in the dark to kiss him. Well, he knows what it _could_ mean, but that doesn’t mean it actually means that.  
  
He’s so confused.  
  
“So you...?” He bites his bottom lip, catches the way Derek’s eyes follow the movement.  
  
“Thought you were the smart one,” Derek says, and Stiles wants to smack that smug grin right of his pretty face.  
  
Or kiss it off.  
  
That works too. For both of them apparently, if the way Derek backs him up against the tree is any indication.  
  
“So that’s a yes, then?” he asks, pulling his mouth away.  
  
Derek kisses across his jaw, down his neck, sucking a mark into his skin before growling out, “Shut up, Stiles.”  
  
Which is totally something Stiles can do. Especially when his mouth could be doing much more interesting things. _With Derek_.  
  
Which is _awesome_.  
  
Stiles totally _loves_ stakeouts.  
  
  
 **November 27th 2014:**  
  
They are not on a stakeout.  
  
They aren’t in mortal danger, there aren’t even hunters. It’s just them, in the Jeep, about to go into the diner and get some dinner.  
  
“Can you believe it? It’s been twelve months you since confessed your undying love for me, since you said you’d love me, and only me, forever. Since you admitted how blessed you were to ever have met me.”  
  
Derek turns his head and stares at him. “Stiles, literally none of that happened. You kissed me in your Jeep. And then you ran away.”  
  
 **“** But in my version of events I manage to maintain some dignity. And you came running after me so I must have done something right.”  
  
Derek shakes his head, mostly at himself. “I did run after you. Regretting it now though.”  
  
Stiles glares. “You got jokes! Whatever. You could never regret it.”  
  
Derek’s eyes widen, like he can’t believe how ridiculous Stiles is being. “You’re an idiot.”  
  
“But I’m right though, right? You don’t regret running after me.”  
  
Derek leans over and kisses him. “No. I don’t regret running after you.”  
  
Stiles grins widely at him. “Because I’m awesome.”  
  
“If you say so,” Derek tells him, but he’s kissing him again.  
  
When Derek pulls away Stiles is breathless, cheeks flushed, mouth wet and still open. Derek’s opening the door, climbing out, looking back at Stiles impatiently.  
  
“Are you coming? Or should I go see if the waitress wants to eat dinner with me?”  
  
Stiles scowls.  
  
And if he happens to shove his hand in Derek’s back pocket when they enter the diner well, Derek has himself to blame.


End file.
